


Efficiency

by MyPersonalKilljoy



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daryl Dixon is Not a Virgin, Established Relationship, M/M, ahaha negan? i dont know her, quite fast paced, sooo many flashbacks, yet no fingering, ¡¡ I have no idea what i am doing !!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyPersonalKilljoy/pseuds/MyPersonalKilljoy
Summary: “Is that why you want me here? ‘Cos you’re a fucking hippy that cares about the environment?” Daryl said, a small smile on his face.“Of course, you'll also have to stop riding your bike; it produces far too much carbon dioxide.” Jesus smiled and slowly reached out to touch Daryl’s face, wiping the blood off his face with a gentle thumb.“Heard global warming's gonna end the world.”





	Efficiency

**Author's Note:**

> this is shit sorry

Daryl didn’t really see what the fuss was all about. So what, some of his shit was laying around Jesus’ place. Practically the definition of ‘not a big deal’.

It really wasn’t a big deal.

Except it really, really was.

\--

“Man, what the fuck!”

Daryl glanced over at the other man from where he was laid languidly on the bed, arms and legs flailed ungracefully around him. One hand was gently ghosting over his bare stomach, tickling the hair below his belly button.

“What?” Daryl asked, absentmindedly giving his cock a few experimental tugs before dragging his eyes to the man standing over him.

“You’ve got your shit everywhere man, tried to sit down on the couch and got stabbed in the ass by one of your damn crossbow bolts.” He moved around the room, picking up various items that belonged to Daryl and throwing them over his shoulder.

Daryl smirked, quirking an eyebrow, “That a euphemism for something? ‘Cos I sure know you like another kind of crossbow bolt in the vicinity of your ass.”

The man simply rolled his eyes and flicked his long hair over his shoulder, dropping the armful of Daryl’s possessions next to him on the bed.

He smiled slightly, looking down at Daryl in his bed, taking in the sight of the man against his white cotton bed-sheets. His hair was spread out on the pillow and his skin was pale and untouched, giving him an angelic, almost virginial glow. Although, the fact that his hand was still pumping his now fully hard cock did somehow alter the image.

“You been reading the dictionary or something? Didn’t realise you knew so many words”

Daryl’s face suddenly turned sour, sitting up and opening his pretty mouth in an attempt to argue but he quickly closed it when he heard the sound of a fly being unzipped. His easy smile returned and his gaze fell to his hands, slowing pulling himself out of his jeans.

“Want you to suck me, baby.” He said, making his way to Daryl’s side of the bed at a leisurely pace, knowing it was driving him crazy. “Want you to get me nice and wet so I can fuck your pretty ass, I know you’ve been thinking about it all day, it’s why you’re here, right? Been hunting all day, out in the woods, all the while knowing you’d rather be here, in my bed. That why you broke in? Got yourself good and ready in my bed, waiting for me to realise that you were in here? Huh, baby? You gonna answer me?”

“You live in a fucking trailer man, wasn’t that hard to break in.” Daryl muttered, tilting his head back and arching into the man’s touch when he finally reached out to him. He was expecting a soothing stroke, it was his style, start slow and easy before getting steadily faster and harder and _better_. But there was no such coddling tonight. His hand roughly grabbed Daryl’s head and pulled him to his cock, grabbing his jaw so he couldn’t escape, not like he’d want to. “Oh.. _Jesus_.” Daryl moaned against his cock before swallowing it whole like a fucking _madman_.

“That’s it, oh yes, gonna make you moan so loud tonight, everyone in the damn town will here you. Gonna make you scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to.” He said, blabbering.

Daryl moaned louder and bobbed his head on his cock, his fingers teasing is balls before moving to hold his hips with a death grip. He was going to get bruises. He loved it. Daryl looked up into his eyes, and wow, those eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked, out of breath. He talked a big game but he knew he wouldn’t be able to last for long, not when Daryl was like this, subdued and relaxed, fucking _happy._ He didn’t know when he was going to see this side of his lover again, wished he could stay like this forever, his own personal heaven.

Daryl pulled off his cock, licking it with tiny kitten licks and mewling like a pornstar, _good lord,_ before he smirked, nodding his head before he kissed the tip, then deep throating him all in one fell swoop.

Oh wow, he really was in heaven. Hey dad.

He slowly started fucking Daryl’s face, watching for any signs of discomfort before thrusting his hips with more vigour, sweat dripping down his back and his hair getting stuck to his face.

“You already fingered yourself?” He asked, downright praying for Daryl to say yes, he really doesn’t think he could survive the wait of getting Daryl ready for him.

The grip on his hips tightened and immediately he pulled his cock out of Daryl’s mouth, a trail of spit following his exit. And no way did he find that hot. He was deranged. He was horny. One of those two statements were much more pressing than the other.

Daryl turned around on the bed so his ass was in the air like a damn trophy and wow, this kid knew him well. He was already slick and ready, his hole gaping and twitching, practically begging for him.

“Slut.” He said, already pressing the blunt of his cock against his hole, waiting with baited breath for Daryl to retort, for him to show he was okay.

“Fuck me, please.”

So he did.

His pace was brutal, hard and fast, his hips bouncing off Daryl’s ass with every thrust. Daryl screamed into the pillow, sobbing for more. His hands were everywhere, running down Daryl’s scarred back, grabbing his ribs, trailing over his stomach -bypassing his cock, because he was a heartless bastard- and finally finding purchase in his hair. His left hand reached for Daryl’s own, so their fingers linked together, each gripping the bedsheets for leverage.

“Say it.” The man said, fucking into Daryl harder, so close to coming it hurt, but unwilling to come, not yet. “Say my name, scream it, then I’ll let you come.” He said, tugging his hair a little. Daryl moaned louder, but it wasn’t his name. He smirked, happy to play this game. He changed his angle slightly, fucking him harder and faster and finally hitting his prostate with such a hard thrust that Daryl almost blacked out with pleasure. He disentangled his hand from Daryl’s and reaching around the younger man, grabbing hold of his cock and pumping it in time with his thrusts, hitting his prostate each time. “Say my name, Daryl.”

“Caesar!” He yelled as he came, body tightening around Caesar’s cock as he let go, Caesar’s hand covered in his lovers come.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, feeling his balls tightening.

“Caesar Martinez. I belong to you.” 

\--

“All I’m saying is that, well, it’s inefficient for us to be living in two separate places.” Paul said, trying to look like he was being considerate and patient but seeming more like there was a rather large stick up his ass instead. Daryl could have punched him when the other man’s tone changed to placating and careful, as if he was some dumb kid that needed coddling. 

“You’re like Maggie’s right-hand man, this place needs ya. I don’t belong here.” Daryl replied, looking at the fucking ugly painting that Jesus loved so much. The damn thing was the bane of his existence, right across from the bed so it was the first thing he saw when he got up. But oh no he simply couldn’t throw the pile of shit away because _it’s a Monet, Daryl._ So, he was forced to stare at the ugly as shit painting of some dumb buildings that was too blurry to even make out.

Daryl saw Paul scrunch up his face in annoyance and rake his hands threw his long hair. Daryl ached to reach out and touch it, run his hands through it and soothe the strands that had gotten out of place. Paul let out a groan of frustration when he realised that he still wasn’t making eye contact. Daryl has a fleeting suspicion that he was missing something. 

\--

“We should go out tonight.” Martinez said.

“Ain’t going out with you when you look like that, you need a fucking haircut man. Guys ain’t supposed to have long hair.” He took a sip of his beer, changing the channel on Caesar’s shitty TV, only thing that was on was shitty rom-coms and reruns of Friends.

“You didn’t seem to hate it too much last night.” He winked, taking the bottle out of Daryl’s hand and taking a swig himself, ignoring Daryl’s indignant gasp. “But seriously, we should go somewhere.”

“Why? It’s valentine’s day, everywhere would be packed, and what if we see someone we know? Ain’t too easy to explain two guys just hanging out together on valentine’s.” He stole his beer back and changed the channel again, completely missing Caesar’s meaningful look.

“Why couldn’t we just tell them the truth?”

Daryl snorted and took another drink, letting out a cry of triumph as he found a channel playing a marathon of Ice Road Truckers until three in the morning. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so shitty after all.

“Wanna pull an all-nighter? We could make out in the commercials, if you want to be a romantic.” Daryl asked, turning to look at Martinez with a smirk.

“Not tonight, I think I’ll go to bed early. See you tomorrow.” Caesar kissed his temple softly before standing and heading in the direction of his room, leaving Daryl to go over their entire conversation in his head to find out what he’d missed.

They don’t talk about it in the morning.

They never do.

\--

“I’m not talking about that, Daryl. Alexandria is your home, they need you as much as this place needs me, you know that.” He paused, rubbing his hands together like he was thinking about reaching out and touching him. He didn’t. Daryl didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He chose relieved; that was an easier concept to get his head around. “You know I didn’t mean that, you’re not an idiot.”

\--

“He’s my fucking brother.” Daryl yells, pacing Caesar’s living room like a trapped animal, trying not to get angry and failing miserably.

“Oh yeah that explains everything, thanks for clearing it up, I don’t know how I could have been so confused. You’re such a fucking idiot, sometimes, no wonder you couldn’t finish high school, you dumb prick!” Martinez winces slightly, already knowing he’s gone too far, but too angry to apologize.

Daryl stops pacing right in front of him, and for a second -it felt like a lifetime- he thought Daryl was going to punch him.

Fight or flight.

He did what he always did.

\--

“Listen okay, if you want me to leave and clear my shit outta here then you might as well have the fucking balls to just say it.” Daryl said, standing up, then sitting down again, then standing up. Mainly because he felt like he should be angry, should have _some_ kind of response to this, not just sitting and staring and anger was always the easiest option. Anger was natural; he knew anger, taken her out to dinner, knew her favourite wine, anger was familiar.

\--

Martinez had a mole on his inner thigh.

A scar on his knee from when he burned it on a radiator pipe when he was eleven.

He took his coffee black and strong in the morning, but if he was having it in the day he’d take it with three sugars and crème.

He fucked slow and languid, until he got bored, then he was fucking merciless. But he always respected Daryl’s limits.

He once got in a barfight because he had heard that the cute bartender liked tough guys and he wanted to impress her. In fact, he had misheard, because she actually liked tough girls.

He was twenty-four when they first met, Daryl was twenty-two.

He always used to call Daryl ‘cutie’ until he saw him tear apart a squirrel with his bare hands, then he would say that the world would end before Daryl Dixon was called adorable.

He was born on March 30, in Marshfield, Wisconsin, but he moved when he was a teenager.

His favourite food was chifrijo, but Daryl didn’t know how to make it, although he made a mean chilli. Martinez always laughed when Daryl said it was practically the same, and made a vague comment on how Daryl was a racist pig, but he always gave him head after so Daryl didn’t mind.

He didn’t bottom often, but when he did he liked to feel it for days after.

He never asked about the scars on Daryl’s back, he seemed to know, anyway.

\--

“I’m not asking you to leave, the opposite… I want you to stay.” Paul said, finally catching his gaze with his fucking _eyes_ , looking at him like he wanted to keep looking, rather than glancing like he was a rabid mutt that shouldn’t be looked in the eyes lest it goes insane and starts biting and frothing at the mouth. “I’m asking you to move in with me.”

\--

“Say something.” Caesar said, he tried to make it sound like a command but his voice broke half way through.

“I don’t know what to say.” Daryl replied, wanting to leave. He needed to get out, to be alone. He wanted to go to the woods, kill a deer or something. He wanted to fuck Martinez and pretend that he didn’t just say that, go on living like the man hadn’t just ruined everything.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just a house.”

“You live in a trailer.” Daryl said. Because he was annoyed.

“Then I’ll move in with you, we can live here.”

“I don’t want you to.” Daryl said. Because he was cruel.

Martinez sucked in a breath, nodding his head like Daryl had said something really smart and important and he needed to think of an equally profound response.

“It’s not just because I’m a guy, is it?” Martinez asked, hands curled into fists by his side. A small part of Daryl’s mind took note of the fact they were both still naked, Martinez stood next to the bed while Daryl was sat with the sheet covering his lap. It made the situation seem lighter, like this wasn’t the end of their non-relationship, the great ultimatum in the only constant thing in Daryl’s pitiful life. Then again, considering their history, it’s probably fitting that they’re naked, call it poetic justice. “It’s not just because I have a dick, it’s not because I’m not a girl. Is it?”

“You should go to the red light district sometime, plenty of girls there with dicks.” Daryl said. Because he’s a fucking coward.

“Tell me.” Martinez said, tears in his eyes, but still unwilling to let them fall. Not for Daryl Dixon.

“I don’t love you.” Daryl said, effectively ripping out his heart with four simple words.

The things Daryl Dixon could do to him.

“I think it’s best if you go.” Daryl said. Because that’s what he always did.

Fight or flight.

\--

“You want me to move in with you?” Daryl asked, almost hesitant. His eyes were wide and wild and he still had a smudge of blood on his cheek from the run they went on together.

“It’s not that big of a deal, you live in a shared trailer two minutes away, and most of your stuff is already here. It’s more economical, you living here.” He said, scrambling for options, excuses, anything that would keep Daryl from closing up again, from walking away.

“Is that why you want me here? ‘Cos you’re a fucking hippy that cares about the environment?” Daryl said, a small smile on his face.

“Of course, I’ll also have to ask you to stop riding your bike, produces far too much carbon dioxide.” Jesus smiled and slowly reached out to touch Daryl’s face, wiping the blood off his face with a gentle thumb.

“Heard the apocalypse is gonna be caused by global warming.” Daryl said, turning his head to kiss Paul’s palm. His eyes were bright, and he really needed a shower, but his shoulders weren’t tense and his smile was easy.

“Yeah, that’s probably our biggest problem right now.” Jesus said, leaning down and kissing Daryl softly.

\--

“I love you” Martinez said one night, while he was balls deep in Daryl.

Daryl just moaned louder and pretended he hadn’t heard.

\--

“I told Carol that we were… you know.” Daryl ran a finger up and down Paul’s bicep, noting the wry muscle in his arm whenever he turned a page of the book he was reading. He was speaking quietly, voice oddly delicate in the still night.

Not looking away from his book, Paul asked, “That we were what?” A part of him actually wanted to hear the answer but the main reason he asked was because he was a dick.

“That we were, like, together.” Daryl paused, his finger moving on to Paul’s ribs, dancing over the protruding bones. He was too skinny. Everyone was. Didn’t make it any better. “I think she already knew, she didn’t say anything though.”

“Do you want to tell people about us?” Paul asked, glancing away from his book to look at Daryl out of the corner of his eye. They had both managed to be pretty discreet over the past few months, managing to come up with decent excuses and lies when needed, and Daryl was adverse to PDA enough that he got uncomfortable when Jesus so much as touched his arm to get his attention. He didn’t mind though, it was their business after all, they didn’t need the whole damn world to know what went on in their private time.

They hadn’t even been caught _en flagrante_ either, although that time Glenn almost walked in on Daryl giving him a blowjob in Gregory’s old office was traumatic enough to make them get their act together.

“Do you?” Daryl asked, ever the master deflector.

“Great response, we always have such thrilling conversations.” Paul said, flicking the page on the book he was pretending to read, he was waiting for Daryl to realise that the book was actually upside down and in French to boot, but the other man hadn’t paid the novel any attention.

It never took too long for Daryl to crack, Jesus had really worn the man down during their time together. Apparently, he used to be some big stoic tough guy that only said two words at a time and more often than not they were accompanied with two fingers in an awfully crude gesture. But when Jesus looked at the man next to him all he saw was an emotional little teddy bear. He was adorable, really.

“I don’t know why we should have to tell people. Like, no one else has to go around, knocking on doors and tell everyone who they’re fucking. Just because we’re two guys shouldn’t make it any different. I would rather they just figure it out.” Daryl’s fingers were playing with Paul’s right nipple, tweaking and pinching the nib between is fingers.

“So, should we stop lying about being totally platonic roommates that always go on runs together and stay out on watch for hours with only each other for company just because we’re such great pals?” Jesus asked, throwing the book of the bed and straddling Daryl’s thighs, fisting the hunter’s hair.

“Never lied-“ Jesus interrupted him by pulling their faces together, only letting him go when they were both gasping for air, “Just carefully avoided telling the truth.” Daryl said once he got his breath back. “I kind of want to make Rick walk in on us making out, as payback for the time I walked in on him and Michonne having sex. And I walked in on Carl during his own one man show, and I mean, I blame Rick for that because-“

“Daryl, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m really trying to lay the groundwork for some awesome sex here, so could you do me a solid and not talk about teenage boys masturbating?” Jesus said, grinning despite his words.

“Not one of your kinks?” Daryl asked, hands moving from his shoulders down to cup his ass.

Jesus just laughed against Daryl’s neck, biting down on a collar bone when he glanced up to see Daryl’s smug smile.

“I love you.” Daryl whispered, faint and quiet and fragile.

“I love you too.” Paul murmured against his neck, kissing and biting his way up until he reached Daryl’s lips. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [yo boi hmu](http://hesaidwewerestars.tumblr.com/)


End file.
